


Froggy apron

by Kahliethefangirl



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Black Sails - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, silverflint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-14 16:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahliethefangirl/pseuds/Kahliethefangirl
Summary: Silver attempts cooking dinner for his companion Flint but some sneaky thyme and Silver's pride have it end up a little messy...





	Froggy apron

**Author's Note:**

> A cheesy silverflint AU oneshot.  
English is my second language and taught myself so don't hate :(  
My first work posted here ON AO3 *nervous*

Silver stares down - what is supposed to be - a pot with boiling tomato soup. He found a recipe on the internet and thought to surprise his companion as he arrived home later that night.  
Yet for some reason it doesn't seem to help Silver at all, having a step-by-step manual on how to make the soup, that in all honesty seemed fairly easy to make, as he first read through what he needed and how to prepare it.

"It's a curse." Silver mutters under breath after tasting some of the deep red soup - fair enough, spreading a delicious scent through the open space kitchen/livingroom - yet the taste was amiss.  
With a frustrated grunt he plops the spoon down the pot and stir it mindlessly as he wakes the old phone to life; checking for the fifth time that he did everything right.  
But ofcourse there's the Thyme issue. He found no Thyme in the house and maybe that is what caused this mess? 

Flint had been smug about the whole 'I'll surprise you with a homecooked meal' thing ever since he came home to find Silver with his nose pressed to the phone, his curls in a messy bun on his head and Flint's silly apron with chef frogs printed onto the white fabric. It had been a gift from Silver, claiming Flint to sound like a frog when he mumbled and grunted for himself as he cooked.  
But fact is - sounding like a frog or not - Flint always did the cooking and Silver was contributing with.. eh, well, other things?  
A joke about being more of a decoration in their mutual home, had been made by one of their friends. It had upset Flint however and the joke was only given voice once. At least in his precense.

"Something wrong?" Flint wonders where he emerges from his little study further down the hall, also holding doors to the utility room, master bathroom and bedroom. Silver had shooed him off before, claiming he didn't need to intervene in Silver's questional precense in the kitchen. But it had gotten too tempting for the ginger.

"Uh, no? Of course not." Silver snaps where he glares towards his companion leaning against the kitchen counter a safe distance from the cooking experiment. "Why you ask?" He adds in a mutter and Flint purse his lips, trying to keep his entertained smiling to a minimum.

"You've been tasting the soup safely four times now without doing anything with it." Flint points out as kindly as his ability allows before he pushes himself from the counter, arms crossed over his chest hidden behind the white buttonup.  
Silver hates to admit it; but he don't know what to do with the soup. Maybe it's edible but far from something he wanted to serve Flint after a long day at work.  
He tugs the apron, kept in place by a green ribbon around his waist, matching the color of the happy frogs in white puffy hats and random utensils in their 'hands'.

"Yeah well; I am a perfectionist." Silver smiles proudly, that shiteating grin that shows off his pearly whites. But also the smile telling Flint he's up to something, or straight down lying.

"Mh-hm." Flint nods theatrical, stroking his bearded chin a little as he approaches the bubbling soup and Silver staring at him with suspicion written all over his face; dropping his grin quickly enough. 

"All chefs can need an input from time to time." He suggests innocently but Silver is on him within the second; blocking Flint's approach with his free hand pressing to his one strong arm.

"I can do this!" Silver barks, almost a bit childish and the familiar twitch in Flint's face lets him know the taller man is absolutely amused by Silver's behaviour.

"Of course you can." Flint's hand lands on Silver's wrist and the dark haired man stares to the fingers gently wrapping his wirst in a loving cage. "But i let you taste my food for input, so why not the other way around?" Flint cocks a challenging brow and Silver reluctantly let him remove his hand stopping him from gettin any closer to Silver's newly claimed domain.  
God knows however, that this is the last time he'll ever attempt cooking food for Flint.  
Silver contemplates this for a short moment, staring between the food and the man now looking a charming mix of superior and utterly entertained. However Silver is as stubborn as Flint is well... Flint?  
Sure, Flint always have Silver come swaying over the floor like a dog promised a treat, whenever he is cooking. Silver comes on command partly because Flint's cooking is remarkable but also because he secretly enjoys the innocent intimacy that comes with Flint offering him a taste of the food, always with his hand under Silver's chin if he'd spill.

"You just want kudos." Silver puts out his chin with a last glare toward his companion. Flint now allows himself to laugh.

"Don't be such a boy. Let me taste and maybe I can help." Flint laughs and does the fatal error of taking the last step towards a very threatened Silver.  
The approach results in a cranky Silver turning towards the taller man, swaying the spoon from the soup up the air like it was a sword.

"Don't you dare!" Silver roars but shut himself up as he can see Flint standing there, still like a statue with the red soup sprayed across his face and on his white shirt. A new shirt too, if Silver didn't loose track of his notes when continuosly raiding Flint's wardrobe for clothes to steal.  
Silver lowers the spoon between them like a wooden stick covered in blood and silently, biting his lower lip into his mouth, he gently puts it back into the pot.

"Oops?" Silver rise his shoulders, framing his reddening face and smiles insecurely where he fist the stupid apron between his fingers.  
Flint opens his eyes very slowly, the crease between his eyebrows hard to tell if there because of anger or shock. Silver's heart is racing and pulse roaring in his ears.

"Red, suits you." He tilts his head to the side, trying to looke cute whereas Flint only stare at him tierdly; like a parent fed up with its childs never ending bravades. 

"It does, does it?" Flint sighs when he look down to his before purely white shirt now; well it looks like someone tried making modern art of it. Maybe that, Silver could actually do? Modern food art on clothes.

Ashamed Silver stare down his feet, naked on the heated floor and he press his toes towards the polished wood and chew the inside of his cheek.

"Thyme, is what you need." Flint says with a slow drag to his voice and looking up to him through his eyelashes Silver can see Flint gathering some of the soup from his cheeks and puts his fingers into his mouth for another taste.  
Flint looks to Silver, whos instinctive reaction is to tell the man off for tasting although he so straightly forbid it. Yet Silver keeps his mouth shut about that.

"We're out of Thyme." He shifts on the spot and turns to the stove, turning it off. There is no use, the soup won't get any better than this.

"You sure?" Flint doesn't look too sure. "I think I bought some the other day. Did you check the top shelf?" He questions and Silver opens his mouth to protest, but close it just as quick. He never did check the top shelf, did he?  
Feeling absolutely beaten down about the fact he threw soup in Flint's face and ruined his new shirt, he marches towards the spice cupboard with imagined tail between his legs. Opening it and actually looking not only in one place, there is a brand new bag of dried Thyme.  
He takes the bag between his fingers and brings it down, staring at it as if it just comitted high treason; hiding from his not so observant view the entire time.

"This is an omen." Silver sighs. "If I ever attempt to cook for you aga-" He turns to hand the Thyme to Flint and simply let him take over. Silver could maybe set the table and then go back to be a pretty plant or ambient painting.  
However he chokes on his words as Flint stands by the kitchen island, unbuttoning his ruined shirt.  
Now; Silver had seen a fair share of Flint over their time together, yet it never siece to mezmerise him when Flint so carelessly shows off skin. Silver is the not so smooth one, running around in only socks and bare skin, throwing himself over Flint when he at night reads his books. Stuff like that is Silver, not Flint. So when normally very lowkey sexy man is undressing in the kitchen with food on his face well; Silver is shivering.

He watches as Flint is unbuttoning the shirt with a focused frown upon his brow. Silver gulps where he can't really tear his blue eyes off of Flint's freckled chest now fully exposed as he slips out the dirty garment.

"I eh- I'm sorry about the shirt." Silver mumbles with a dry mouth and he tries to keep his eyes above Flint's broad shoulders.  
Flint glance Silver's way where he folds the shirt messily over his one arm and where he most likely was to venture for the utility room, he stops to stare at Silver being an obvious mess in their kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Flint questions, cocking a brow. Silver feels his pulse picking up and not sure of where to put himself he simply shakes his head in all directions and truns to the stove; the color of his face probably matching the steaming soup.

"Yeah, sure! Why wouldn't I be?" He huffs as he grabs the pot and pull it from the hot stove. He licks his lips and close his eyes for a second; scolding himself for being such a teen whenever around his companion wearing less than a full outfit. One would think he'd gotten used to those things now. But again; Flint always being so proper only undressing for bed, changing or a shower....

"Don't worry about the shirt. I have more." Flint chuckles. "As you well know. I think you may have a better clue what's inside my wardrobe than I have myself." He teases and clearing his throat Silver is shuffling around all kinds of things happeing to lie on the counter before him. 

Oh how he hates when Flint pulls him down from his usual self to a level where he simply is so sold on the man he'd act as carpet if he only asked it of him. Poor Silver, he thinks for himself.

"Not my fault your shirts look better on me." Silver croaks, trying to sound cocky yet ending up sounding like he's having a mental breakdown. Yup, his mind may very well do a Chernobyl explosion any second.

"Oh, they do?" Flint purrs, his voice like a warm finger decending from Silver's bared neck down over his back hidden behind the fabric of the grey t-shirt he wears around the house.  
Silver is trying to come up with a smart comeback to Flint's teasing question as he can feel the ginger's two hands snake around his hips; holding them in a firm yet very delicate way.  
Silver's blue eyes stare into the tiles on the wall before him and his jaws pop when all he can hear is the roaring and buzzing in his ears.  
He's normally very full of himself and thinks very highly of his name; yet Flint pulls him down under the crust of erath within seconds if he so wishes to. And the damned bastard enjoys it way too much!

"Thank you for making me dinner." Flint mumbles into the black curls recklessly resting ontop of silver's head now pounding furiously. His lips whisper against the shell of Silver's ear and the feeling is so light he would've been able to miss it; was it not for all his senses being trained on the tall being now behind him; so close he can't do anyting but anticipate the moment when he can feel Flint's front press against his back form.

"How it now may be." Silver mutters, or stutters maybe.  
His mouth is dry yet there's an abundance of saliva under his tongue.

"As said; a little Thyme and I think you have outdone yourself." Flint tells absentmindedly; now more focused on running the tip of his nose along Silver's skull and his one hand lays flat to his abdomen; where muscles are working frantically to produce an unnatural heat and amount of butterflies. 

"Now you're just trying to be nice." Silver bites back; knowing very well thyme won't save the content of the pot, seemingly rather forgotten at the moment; only being mentioned not to make Flint's out of the ordinary approach less nervewrecking for poor Silver.

"You know very well that's not how I do it." Flint comments a little amused and Silver is to start arguing; suddenly very keen to have his comapnion admit his soup is not very impressive, when Flint's lips press against the hot skin on Silver's neck.  
The heart of Silver is doing summersaults behind his rips and the goosebumps spread like wildfire from his neck, down his arms and back. His blue eyes rolls back in their sockets and a bit involuntarily his own hand lands on top of Flint's; still resting on his stomach.

"Stop that." Silver sighs; giving away way too easily how much he actually don't want to stop this. "We're not done fighting about my soup." He adds, trying to give off that he's not at all needy on what is about to unravel. Shame he's as good at lying as he is cooking, when Flint have his being twisted around his little finger.

"Certainly not." Flint smiles into the kiss planted under Silver's ear; causing mentioned man to fall back into Flint's welcoming embrace. The strong freckled arms lace around the short man and Silver tilts his head back to have a look at Flint, behind him. "But it can surely wait, don't you think?" Flint smiles wryly, white teeth showing.

Silver stare into his bright eyes, hooded with the same need surging through his own body and right then; it's so easy to simply give up all his pride and just roll along with it. Silver would do anything for Flint; especially when he's shirtless in their kitchen with soup on his face.

"Fuck the soup." Silver groans before pressing his lips against Flints'; not giving a shit about the awkward strain to his neck turned to its limit in an attempt to reach the man behind his back.

"Hm." Flint hums into the kiss; his arms twisting with Silvers where they press tightly together; his fingers trying to find the green string keeping silver's apron in place. 

"Maybe not the soup.." He snickers, gently biting down onto Silver's bottom lip.


End file.
